


A Half-Day

by Altenprano



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Gen, Oneshot, genre: general
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 00:11:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2088297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Altenprano/pseuds/Altenprano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the attack, Anna finds herself dreading the prospect of her half-day, and decides to visit an old friend. Oneshot</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Half-Day

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  So this is inspired by a little Headcanon I have that will be shared at a later date (it will be on my blog, idnotpretendtobealady.tumblr.com), concerning Anna and her half-days..also because I have a lot of Anna/William headcanons...  
> Disclaimer: I own jack-diddly-zero of Downton Abbey and its characters (and I could have wired it more eloquently, but I chose not to)  
> Enjoy!

Anna knew she ought to enjoy her half-day, those precious hours of free time, where no one required anything of her, when there was no work to be done, but she found herself dreading it for those exact reasons. She'd already arranged to move her half-day from Tuesday to Wednesday, so she and Mr. Bates wouldn't end up spending their time together, something she couldn't even bear to think about anymore, but she still found herself looking forward to it with a sinking feeling in her stomach.

She knew she ought to appreciate the lack of work, but now, after the events of the house party, she wanted to do nothing but work, which she had. She taken on any mending that needed to be done, even returned to doing some of the chores she'd done as a housemaid, anything to keep her hands and mind busy. She carried all this extra work out well after midnight, usually falling asleep with her arms for a pillow when she'd completely worn herself down-- in fact, she couldn't recall the last time she'd had to count sheep since the attack. It was better that way, working herself enough that she was too tired to even dream, though sometimes nightmares would show themselves.

The thought of not working, even if it were for only a little while, frightened her. How would she distract herself without a sewing needle and thread to keep her mind focused?

She knew Mrs. Hughes would insist (gently, of course,  as the housekeeper had come to handle everything pertaining to Anna since the attack with a certain carefulness) that she take a day for herself and do something that she enjoyed. The housekeeper had already suggested going down to the village and posting a letter to Gwen, or even her mother, but Anna knew that it wouldn't lift her spirits to do that. 

What would she write to her best friend about? Certainly one didn't write about being attacked, and, after all the good news Anna'd received from Gwen about being married and expecting her first child, she didn't want to spoil her friend's sunny mood. 

And her mother? What would Anna tell her?

She'd only written to her mother on Mother's Day (a practice she abandoned sometime around her fifth year in service), and in the moments where she felt truly and utterly lost, moments that had become rare when, around Anna's twentieth birthday, she'd realized how selfish it was (not to mention over-dramatic) to classify instances as such. Her most recent correspondence with her mother had been after she and Mr. Bates had gotten married, which put several years of silence between them. Could she tell her mother what had happened to her, despite having never told her that her husband had been convicted of murder and done time for it (probably something a woman should know about her son-in-law)?

It wasn't something her mother absolutely needed to know, Anna decided, and therefore, it could be left out. Her mother would understand, surely.

But that didn't solve the question of what to do with her half-day.

It took a lot of thought for Anna to decide on what she would occupy herself with, a lot of weighing pros against cons, thinking through who would be where and who she wanted to avoid, but, eventually, she was able to come to a conclusion. She was glad, really, that she'd come up with the course of action she chose, and perhaps, she thought, it would put her mind at ease a little, not to mention, she'd neglected doing it for quite some time now.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She made her way to the cemetery in silence, sheltering the bouquet of flowers from the winds that promised a storm later as she went. She'd tried to get most of his favorites, taking a few from her garden at the cottage (which, she'd noticed, was being taken care of in her absence, and it wasn't a mystery as to whom was caring for her flowers), as well as some from a stall in the square, and she wondered if anyone else had thought to bring him flowers. She had no doubt that his father did, perhaps on his birthday, and she wondered if his wife-- now his widow-- ever did.

Anna knelt at the cross that bore his name, setting the bundle of chrysanthemums, daisies, and amethyst flowers at the base of the marker. She felt ridiculous, kneeling there as if his grave were some holy shrine, and she, a devout pilgrim, but she wanted nothing more than to be close to him, as if that would give her the comfort and strength she needed.

"William," she said, the name coming unbidden from her lips, and she realized how much she'd missed saying his name, though before, it had always been in the bright voice used for greeting friends, never the hushed one she now spoke with.

They'd always been the best of friends, in part because their families had always lived so close to each other, but also because they both strove to prove themselves through kindness. It had been from him that Anna had learned just how far an act of kindness went-- she recalled him comparing it to ripples in a pond-- and she'd shown him what it was like to have a sister. He'd sometimes call her his little sister, a lie, because she was older by a handful of months, but she enjoyed the title, and she would come to understand its importance, seeing as his parents had lost all his other siblings when they were just babies. They comforted each other-- in truth, she comforted him more than he comforted her-- and they defended the other when the need arose. 

There had been a time, long ago, and certainly not after Thomas had been introduced into their lives, when Anna would say that she would be happy as Williams's wife. That was another thing she'd decided to be childish, not to mention, she didn't want to ruin her relationship with William. It was quickly abandoned and forgotten, just like any other flights of fancy that she'd entertained.

"Oh William, I miss you," she confessed, feeling her eyes begin to water. "I wish you were here, that Mr. Matthew had taken the brunt of the explosion-- may God forgive me for saying that-- because maybe then you'd be alive and you could help me."

_But instead he's dead, and you're left to sort this all out yourself,_ she thought, rising to to her feet after a few more moments spent staring at the ground beneath her, the earthy wall that separated her from a friend she would count as being closer than Gwen ever would be. There were clouds rolling in from the north, and she knew if she wanted to get home dry (she'd decided against bringing an umbrella), she would have to leave now.

"I'll come back on my next half-day, I promise," she told the cross before returning to Downton Abbey, feeling a bit stronger than she had that morning.

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  Hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading!  
> Please direct all comments, criticisms, questions, praise, whatever to the box down below or to my tumblr inbox. Your choice. It's lovely to hear from y'all in the readership (even if it is an angry text message, for some of you), and it makes my day to know what you think.  
> Once more, thanks!


End file.
